


watching you

by smoll_jane



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gang World, Enemies to Lovers, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-22
Updated: 2019-04-22
Packaged: 2020-01-24 05:54:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18565279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smoll_jane/pseuds/smoll_jane
Summary: Hong Jisoo is always a step ahead.





	watching you

-He was spying from the roof across the street.

With an absent gesture, Jisoo orders his men to attach him. He doesn't have time for these craps. Hopefully, Mingyu and Minghao perfectly know what to do. They drag a man with a bag on the head to the middle of the warehouse where they tie him to a chair. When they're done, they wait for their chief's instructions, Minghao already tightening a hand on his brass knuckles, in his pocket. The dagger hidden in Mingyu's boot is tickling his ankle.

-Leave us alone.

Closing the notebook he was looking at, Jisoo provokes two disappointed sighs and can't help but grin. That's the closest thing to action they've been facing for months. Squeezing the Chinese's arm when he passes by, he stops them and whispers "I'll need you later, don't worry.", with a wink.

A door closed, the silence. There's nothing but Jisoo's heels pounding the floor as he approaches and the hostage's heavy breath. Turning around the chair a few times, the chief has fun playing with the disoriented man. The canvas bag on his head stops the light and probably affects his hearing too.

-Let's see who you are.

Abruptly pulling on the fabric, Jisoo discovers a blonde head and an angelic face. The guy is shooting him with his eyes, provoking an amused smile on his holder's face.

-Looks like they already started working with you.

Spitting blood on the floor, the prisoner hushes, not looking away from Jisoo. He has a cut and swollen lip, a red cheek, blood on his jaw and his temple. The dark-haired man squats down and wipes the blood off his lip with the thumb, getting a startle and a recoil movement. He can't get away. Jisoo catches his chin with more strength that he looks having and forces him to look at him.

-Tell me who you are. Let's talk about what you were doing on that rooftop.

_Yoon Jeonghan._

He wasn't prepared to that. He looks… young. Fragile and vulnerable. Jeonghan imagined an older, stronger, uglier man at the head of a gang so powerful. But Hong Jisoo is his age, looks like every average boy. At the only exception of his cat-like eyes, the feline corners of his mouth, the amusement in his gaze. He thought he'd be out of himself, he'd beat him to death, but everything looks like a game. He lets go of his chin and spreads the blonde streaks on his forehead with a feminine delicacy. Again, Jeonghan shakes the head, terrified of the electricity transmitting from his fingertips. Terrified of the unexpectedness this mission took. He musts focus. He's got a goal. He's got something to do.

A few hours. That's how long he needs to hold on. Until dawn.

He won't talk. Letting out an already tired sigh, Jisoo goes to the back of the warehouse, in the shadow, where Jeonghan can't see him, and comes back with a chair. There's this smirk, not leaving his lips, his way to walk, his way to move. Jeonghan can understand why he's so mighty, why he is who he is, how he arrived on this powerful throne. When he finally puts the chair in front of him, the backrest facing him, when he sits with arms crossed on it and legs parted, when his voice resonates in the immensity of this place, bouncing against the metallic walls and comes back to infiltrate his ears, Jeonghan has to hold back a shiver. Because he can't feel this way. That's impossible.

-So tell me. We'll stay here as long as we need. Who are you? Tell me your name. Tell me what you want.

_I want to take you down. I want you to die._

-Han. My name is Han.

-Oh so you know how to talk, good to know pretty face.

He doesn't take anything seriously. Tilting the head and closing his eyes, he offers Jeonghan a bright smile. The silence follows. A silence in which he has all the time to stare at him. To stare at this man he built his life around. During three years, three long years, he gathered everything. Every piece of information he could use later. Took the crumbs, added them in his file, used every little detail as something to return against him when the time would come. The only question mark subsisting was him. Hong Jisoo. The mystery has been total until today. He knows everything there is to know about the gang, at the only exception of his own chief. Of the man leading everything, managing the business, destroying everything his men touch, turning everything into gold.

He recognized the two men that brought him in there. Kim Mingyu and Xu Minghao. This one is one of the most important asset of Jisoo. He introduced lots of influential persons, keeps a liaison with China. A pro at martial art and close combat. Kim Mingyu, the shadow. If he didn't intentionally want to be caught, Jeonghan would've been killed at the very first second Mingyu landed his eyes on him. Poison, daggers, everything is done in finesse with him.

And there's still Hong Jisoo. The problem everything is turning around. The blank in his notebook. He wants to know everything about him before dying. He wants to complete his work before disappearing. He want to put a point at the end of the sentence, of his life. He's wearing a lose shirt, necklaces, earrings. Could it be eyeliner? Black velvet pants, glossy shoes. A pack of cigarettes in his pocket? But he doesn't smell like tobacco. Masculine cologne, mint, amber, gun powder, but not tobacco.

-I'll talk after a fag.

The surprise paints on his face for a second before he puts a hand to his pocket and smiles again. Always that stupid smile. Why is he smiling so much? Taking out the packet, Jeonghan discovers chewing gums and hisses. A finger snap. The door opens. Lee Seokmin. The right-hand man. A true genius. He's just a step away of the shadow, where Jeonghan can see him. Without turning to him, Jisoo asks :

-Cigarettes. And a clicker. Ask Minghao, he should have one.

The door closes. The door opens. Heels pounding the floor. It's Boo Seungkwan this time. The brain. Never fights, organizes crimes but doesn't take a step outside, too precious for that. His eyes fall on Jeonghan. He hands the packet to his boss and disappears in a breath. Jisoo's fingers are clumsy on the box. His confidence fades as he takes a cigarette out, but it's already back when he approaches the hand from Jeonghan's mouth, waiting for him to spread his lips, what he does, not without a second of hesitation. But when he lays the clicker, the prisoner violently moves backwards, getting a chuckle from Jisoo who puts a hand on his nape to bring him closer.

-Burn scars are too ugly for your pretty face, I'd rather ask Mingyu to gift you a poetic cut. Come one, you want it or not?

Giving up with a sigh, Jeonghan lets Jisoo light up his cigarette and closes the eyes when the bitter taste invades his mouth. Now he can focus. Leaning in his chair, Jisoo contemplates. He never had an intruder so delicate. The features of his face look straight out of an art book, one of those Minghao keeps on the shelving and flips through from time to time. Despite the hours he knows he spent under the sun, his skin is immaculate, pure and soft just like ivory.

-You don't look like someone who would smoke. Is it because you're nervous? Are you nervous?

_I know you do only before and after meetings. To relieve stress and fade headaches._

Something in the way Jisoo's lip rolls above his teeth when he smiles shows that he's actually capable of the worst. His world is the bad one. Violence, crime, traffic of all kinds. These graceful hands of him killed people. Caused death. Took thousands of people straight to their lost. This sweet voice ordered murders. These bright eyes landed on bloodbath more than once.

When he's done, Jeonghan spits the butt on the floor and sticks their eyes together.

-I'm not nervous. Now we can talk.

Happily clapping his hands together, Jisoo straightens up in his chair, diving his dark eyes deep down in him. Jeonghan feels naked in front of him. As if he could see everything he wants in him. As if he was an open book. He just has to pick a page and choose what he wants to know. That wasn't in the plan. That vulnerability he would feel once in front of him.

-What were you doing on that roof? What is your goal, what is your plan?

-Put an end at your poisonous business.

-And in the name of what? Who are you to think you can take us down? How will you do that?

Again. Amusement. If his hands were free, he would jump at his throat to erase that smirk on his face. To convince himself that tension in him is nothing but hate and not attraction. To get rid of all the disgust he's been feeling from the very first time he heard his name. To deflect that unbearable will to see him whimpering under him. He doesn't answer. He doesn't want to satisfy his curiosity. He doesn't want to give him what he wants. He just defies him, his eyes darker than ever, waiting to see that smile fade. But it doesn't. It doesn't and Jisoo just stands up, shaking his black streaks.

-You know it's late, I'm too tired for that game. I'll come back later.

Making his way to the exit, he snaps his fingers two times. The door opens to Mingyu and Minghao, and with a simple gesture, Jeonghan feels the sweat running down his temple. Minghao runs at him with the same grin as his boss, except that there's nothing but sadism in his eyes, brass knuckles already brandished, too happy to finally act. Jisoo disappears.

~

It stinks of blood when he comes back. The pungent smell floats in the air and sticks to the skin with possessive claws. Mingyu let his friend do the most of the job for sure. Jeonghan has been left alone for a moment, in the dark. When he turns the lights on, blinking to adapt, Jisoo understands that it doesn't only smell like blood. He can't contain his surprise when he discovers while approaching the carnage on his hostage's face. One of his eyes can't open, too swollen, his aquiline nose is nothing more than a distorted line. And there's no need to talk about his jaw and mouth, his cheekbones and everything else. Minghao didn't go with a dead hand for someone supposed to "keep him functional". To assure he's awake, Jisoo, when he's close enough, delicately catches Jeonghan's chin to make him straighten up the head, getting a moan in return.

-This boy should really find something to let all these bad vibes out, that's ugly. You're lucky he didn't attack your knee caps. You wouldn't be able to walk for months. Or ever again, depends on his mood.

He spits blood on his shirt. He can't do anything else. His hand on his face is disrupting too much. The electricity is still there. He doesn't get angry. Instead, Jisoo's eyes turn sad as he stroke his blonde hair. Moving his hand to have the thumb under his jaw and the palm on his cheek, he leans down, stick their eyes together, puts his other hand on his thigh.

-I have plenty of other artists to give you a new face if you want.

Terrified. He's terrified of the impact this gaze has on him. Of the sensation his palm throws in his stomach. Thousands of knots twisting his insides. Jeonghan shakes the head. He doesn't want to see anyone else.

That's easy. Almost natural when Jisoo leans a bit more and steals him a kiss. It tastes like blood. Tobacco. Strawberry. Jeonghan doesn't resist, doesn't move backwards. Just when he seems to want more, Jisoo breaks it and lets go of his face, letting his head fall down. Going behind the chair, he pushes Jeonghan's forehead backwards so that he leans against his stomach. Bending forward, he whispers directly to his ear, voice raw and sensual :

-Your hands are hurting, right?

As unique answer, the prisoner lets his head fall backwards and offers his throat. If he wanted to kill him, he'd already have done it. Jisoo firstly wanders the tip of his nose on the ticklish skin, removing the turtle neck with his index finger, clinging on the clothe, resting his hand on his chest. Jeonghan wants to free himself. He wants to touch him. He wants to forget why he's there. And he does. When Jisoo's lips suddenly enter in contact with his throat, quickly followed by his tongue, warm, nimble, he doesn't remember his goal, his plan, his hate for the monster Hong Jisoo is. Every notion of natural reflex and protection is gone when his teeth claw him. Moaning, growling, the impatience is harder than ever. When he feels Jisoo crouching down, his hands sliding along his arms, waking up every single one of his senses, soon reaching his numb hands. The mouth soon leaves his skin, letting him out of breathe, hard, eager, and it feels so normal. They're not murderers, they're not criminals, they're not enemies. But then, a trigger is pulled, everything crashes when Jisoo whispers a few words, making the panic immediately flood Jeonghan in his whole.

-How is Seungcheol going?

He doesn't free his hands. His intention has never been so. Jeonghan can't see it, but the grin reappears. It's time to go back to his place. It won't last long until the sun arrival. Jisoo sits, crossing his legs, busy to rub the blood stains on his shirt, not looking at his hostage and his panicked expression. Composure is a vague concept at that right moment.

-He should be worried to know you in there. I hope he's wearing clothes warm enough, Soonyoung told me he saw him shivering. Oh or is it Junhui outside? No, he probably is in charge of the bombs. Seungcheol is the sniper, right? I'm mixing the names sometimes.

It's too hard. A silent tear runs down his cheek as he can't look away from the calm Jisoo exudes. He did all of that for nothing. Who is Soonyoung? He doesn't know him. He's not in the file. How does he know all of these informations, these details? When he finally looks up, a maternal smile stretches Jisoo's lips as he leans forwards to wipe the tear.

-Jeonghan sweetie...you really think you could kill me? And all my men? I'm sorry.

The tears following are boiling his skin. The rage hurling down his cheeks. The wrath of wasting all this time for being trapped so stupidly. He knows him. He knows his name, he knows his friends names, he knows what they're about to do. Teeth gritting, Jeonghan faces his faith, faces his failure.

-When you were wondering who I was, when you were trying to gather all the tiny details you could find about me and my gang, you never looked behind you, right? I was just there. I was watching you Jeonghan.

He can't tell the truth. It's impossible. He can't know everything. No, no, no. Jisoo sees his doubts. He sees through Jeonghan's thoughts, just as he did since the very first time their eyes met. He rests a hand on the inside of his thigh, keeping his eyes focused on him, offering him that comforting smile.

-Choi Seungcheol, on the rooftop, ready to shoot if we get out. Chwe Hansol and Jeon Wonwoo, in the cars, controlling the bombs, ready to pull the trigger as soon as Wen Junhui, in the undergrounds, gives them the signal. Oh and Lee Jihoon, of course, with Lee Chan, in the convenience store across the street, waiting for everyone before running away in your car. Did they cry when you volunteered for the suicide? When you decided to give them the time to prepare your little plan?

He wants to scream. From the top of his lungs he wishes he could scream all his frustration, all his humiliation, all his rage. Jisoo approaches, like a vicious snake, his mouth closer and closer from his. His warm breath strokes Jeonghan's face when he whispers :

-I've got a deal. You have two options, pretty boy. It's either they all die, in vain, right now, as soon as I give the signal to my men, or you can stay with me and order them to retreat. You'll stay alive anyway. Either to cry your friends useless death and blame yourself for it, or to become my partner and forget that you were supposed to kill me. You're too good of an asset for me to let you fly away Yoon Jeonghan. I can forgive your mistake and take you under my wing, under my sheets.

He doesn't even know why he kisses him. Chagrin, resentment, abandon, exhaustion. But it feels great to have his lips on him and his hands between his legs. It's too late now. Too late to step back. He failed. Jisoo breaks the kiss and whispers again :

-What do you choose?

 

 

 


End file.
